“I hope they haven't gone to bed,” she said, “for I do so want to see the dear little things.” The ex-boarder, as Euphemia called him, smiled grimly. “They're not so very little,” he said. “My wife's son is nearly grown. He is at an academy in Connecticut, and he expects to go into a civil engineer's office in the spring. His sister is older than he is. My wife married--in the first instance--when she was very young--very young in deed.” “Oh!” said Euphemia; and then, after a pause, “And neither of them is at home now?” “No,” said the ex-boarder. “By the way, what do you think of this dado? It is a portable one; I devised it myself. You can take it away with you to another house when you move. But there is the dinner-bell. I'll show you over the establishment after we have had something to eat.” After our meal we made a tour of inspection. The flat, which included the whole floor, contained nine or ten rooms, of all shapes and sizes. The corners in some of the rooms were cut off and shaped up into closets and recesses, so that Euphemia said the corners of every room were in some other room. Near the back of the flat was a dumb-waiter, with bells and speaking-tubes. When the butcher, the baker, or the kerosene-lamp maker, came each morning, he rang the bell, and called up the tube to know what was wanted. The order was called down, and he brought the things in the afternoon. All this greatly charmed Euphemia. It was so cute, so complete. There were no interviews with disagreeable trades-people, none of the ordinary annoyances of housekeeping. Everything seemed to be done with a bell, a speaking-tube or a crank. “Indeed,” said the ex-boarder, “if it were not for people tripping over the wires, I could rig up attachments by which I could sit in the parlor, and by using pedals and a key-board, I could do all the work of this house without getting out of my easy-chair.” One of the most peculiar features of the establishment was the servant's room. This was at the rear end of the floor, and as there was not much space left after the other rooms had been made, it was very small; so small, indeed, that it would accommodate only a very short bedstead. This made it necessary for our friends to consider the size of the servant when they engaged her. “There were several excellent girls at the intelligence office where I called,” said the ex-boarder, “but I measured them, and they were all too tall. So we had to take a short one, who is only so so. There was one big Scotch girl who was the very person for us, and I would have taken her if my wife had not objected to my plan for her accommodation. “What was that?” I asked. “Well,” said he, “I first thought of cutting a hole in the partition wall at the foot of the bed, for her to put her feet through.” “Never!” said his wife, emphatically. “I would never have allowed that.”